


fill these blank spaces (how i long for those words)

by mystarsandmyocean



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2127732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystarsandmyocean/pseuds/mystarsandmyocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various prompts + requests carried over from my Tumblr.  Prompts always accepted, though they're filled as inspiration/time allows (with the right to refuse a prompt).  </p><p>Latest: </p><p>Oliver/Felicity - Soulmates who can't lie to each other AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Olicity - Sick Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olicity - Sick Day, Courtesy of Effie214

The merry jingle of her ringtone breaks the silence; Felicity leaps to grab it before the room’s other occupant can wake up. 

"Felicity," the static roughens up his voice, deepens its gruffness, "where are you?"

Crap. 

"At home," she squeaks. "Right where I said I would be. All day.  Very sick at home, I am - I mean, I’m still sick - at home, as promised!"

He grunts. “Funny. Cause I’m  _at_ your home, wondering where you are…”

Double crap. 

“‘Licity?” 

Triple crap.  The bed’s occupant rolls over, flops an arm over the covers.  Sweat still covers his face, his color drained away; the sedatives must be wearing off.  

“‘Licity,” he moans, arching back, “got to - no - m’sorry -“

"Felicity? Want to tell me what’s going on?"

"It’s our friend," Felicity confesses, slipping her hand into Oliver’s. "He, um, needed my help today - in person - so I couldn’t work from the precinct.  I’m sorry, Captain, it’s just, I really needed to go, and you didn’t answer when I called in, and technically he _is_ sick, so it is a sick day…”

Oliver squeezes her hand; he’s staring at her, but not  _at_ her - she’s terrified of what he may be seeing (though, based off his screams, she has a pretty good idea).  ” _Please_ , no, no, please - ‘Licity, no, ‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry,” he whimpers, shaking, his fists clenching together as he curls his body closer. 

"Felicity," Captain Lance snaps - crap, she hasn’t heard a word he’s said, but really, she needs to  _go_  (And Dig needs to get back here with the antidote _soon_ , for Oliver’s sake and her’s). “Is there anything we can do?”

"Not right now," she sighs. She tries to crack a smile, hopes he can hear it through the phone, hopes Oliver can see it. "But maybe the not-sick part of today can stay between us?  I really like my new job and don’t want to get in trouble with my boss or anything…"

On the other end of the line, Lance chuckles. “Yeah, Miss Smoak. I think I can handle that.” He pauses, his voice dipping low. “And - whatever you’re helping him with - good luck.”

Felicity nods, even though he can’t see her, and drops her phone back on the table, rubs her hand up and down Oliver’s back; he’s crying again, but she doesn’t want to leave for more sedatives (Last time she left, he knocked his head onto the dresser; she couldn’t even give him stitches because of his flailing). She’ll have to wait for Roy to check in. 

"It’s okay, Oliver," she soothes, thinking of when he’s whispered those words to her, the comfort he gave, "hey, don’t worry, I’m here - you’re _safe._ ”


	2. olicity + nysara/double date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olicity + Nysara - Double Date, courtesy of Frea O'Scanlin

"Wine," Felicity hissed, "I was promised  _wine_ , and margaritas and a night off from vigilanting - ugh, not that we’re vigilantes, anymore, Sara, can you thank your dad again for calling off -"

"Felicity," Sara interrupted, twisting her hands round the chains that currently dangled her and Nyssa from the ceiling, "Give me ten minutes and I promise I’ll make you all the margaritas you want."

"Only ten minutes? This is what happens when you insist on time off, love."

Felicity bit back a groan.  They were absurdly calm considering the drugging - at her  _favorite restaurant_ \- and the chains - which were really starting to freak her out - and the threats of torture, and really couldn’t the villain of the week be a little more creative, smirking over the Arrow and his lady loves (Sara was his ex-girlfriend, thank you very much, and him and Felicity were, well,  _not_ ) -  _  
_

Sara finally lifted herself up to the ceiling; Nysaa followed in a fluid twist - together, they dropped, bringing down the chain, pieces of concrete, and any chance their captors may have had at holding them.

"See," Sara smirked, "Easy enough -"

The door flew open; both assassins turned into a fighting stance - 

"Felicity!" 

Oliver lowered his bow, cutting into her bonds with his arrow (and really, what was that?  She hadn’t even merited a proper chaining, just rope - she really need Sara or Dig to teach her how to do their Houdini tricks -)

"Hey," Oliver murmured, running his hands down her shoulders and arms, "It’s okay; it’s gonna be okay. Did they hurt you? Are you-"

"We’re here too, Oliver." He started, whipping his gaze away from her and towards Sara, who waved at Nyssa’s side.  She might have underestimated his ninja-ing skills if it had taken him this long to notice them - cause really, the concrete and the chains weren’t exactly _subtle_ - 

"I would be the same, love," Nyssa laughed, twining her fingers with Sara’s, "if someone had dared attack you."

"Oh no, Oliver and I are _so_ -” “That has nothing to do with -“

Sara and Nyssa smirked and made their way to the door.

"You guys coming?" Sara called back, "I promised Felicity margaritas and wine."

"Yeah no," Oliver frowned, swinging Felicity into his arms and following them, "I remember your idea of a margarita, and that is _not_ a good idea-“

"Oliver, I am fine, put me down, I swear-"

"Your ankle’s twisted, Felicity, I could see the swelling from the door-"

"You are _not_ using this to get in on margarita night, it is for girls only.”

"I think Sara already invited me."

Nyssa raised an eyebrow at Sara, who only shook her head, laughing.  


	3. Oliver - Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver - Dreams

He first dreams of her on the island.  

He’s been there a week, each night starring a different death, another person he promised - and failed - to save.  

His father.  

Yao Fei. Shado.  Slade.  

Sara.

Tommy. 

Laurel.  His mother.  Thea.  

(The last three never happened, he knows.  Doesn’t stop his brain from conjuring their bloody, broken bodies.)

That night, it’s Dig first.  Bullet wound to the chest.  

Curare.  

_"Where were you?" he curses.  "Laurel.  Always Laurel, right?"_

Dig becomes Tommy, turning his face away.  He slams his eyes shut.  

_"Oliver?!"_

He’s racing towards the Foundry, the city falling down all around him.

She’s buried beneath concrete when he arrives.  He reaches for her - 

And wakes.   

( _"What’s happening now is not your fault," she’d told him once.  He wonders what she’d say now._ )


	4. "are you like allergic to wearing shirts around me?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you like allergic to wearing shirts around me?" 
> 
> Courtesy of releaseurinhibitions

Oliver paused mid-push-up, biceps not even quivering from her spot twenty feet below.  Felicity flushed, popping her jaw up and down, her fingers flitting together.  

"Um, not like a  _real_ allergy, that would be scientifically impossible, not to mention incredibly stupid,” she babbled, pushing her chair away from the computers and his direct line of sight, “I just, well, noticed, that you never wear a shirt - I mean, you do, you do wear shirts, just not here, just more, sometimes, like when I’m here and you’re working out, and I was just skimming the security feed -“ _  
_

"What -" He dropped to the floor; she  _knew_ it was impossible for the ground to actually shudder, but she swore she felt a tremor all the same.  ” - security feed?”

"The one I installed in the lair?"  Oliver stalked over, growly face - as she’d nicknamed it - in full force.  Was this going to become _a thing_ with them?  Not like a _sexual_ thing, nope, despite his distinct lack of a shirt - and wow, he took his training seriously - this was just a fighting - platonic, very, very platonic, fighting thing.  ”Listen, the security was really outdated when I got here, I figured we should have a way to check for intruders just in case - “

"Felicity," he scowled, crossing his arms.  

"Is that _judgment_ I’m hearing?” she snapped back.  She’d done him a favor,  _seriously_ , the nerve - 

Oliver raised an eyebrow, his mouth, like hers had, popping up and closed.  ”No,” he sighed, “Just - let me know, next time.”  He spun on his heel, grabbing a shirt before heading towards the stairs.  

She hadn’t even decided if there was going  _to be_ a next time yet; her promise carrying her until Walter, no further.  

At its feet, he stopped, his back angled towards her.  

"Does it bother you? I can - I can wear a shirt, next time."  This time, she swore she hadn’t imagined the tremor in his voice. 

Felicity traced her eyes over his back, remembering the scars on his other side, worrying her lip at the burns etched into his skin, the tattoo and the marks clawed across it.  How many people, she wondered, did he take his shirt off for?  How many people saw and suspected what those marks truly meant?

She’d never been shy admiring his body - the man had muscles on top of muscles, for god’s sake.  

Heaving a sigh, she tilted her head, viewing the scars as she usually did: not as individual marks, but as part of the whole - pieces in the tapestry that was Oliver Queen’s very admirable body.  

Her brain really did think of the worst ways to say things, sometimes.

"Please don’t," she smiled, "I, uh, _like_ watching you do that.” 


	5. Olicity - Soulmates who can't lie to each other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ask me no questions (i'll tell you no lies)

There's no reason for him to deviate from the plan. 

The plan was good.  The plan was  _solid_. 

Walter had already recommended an IT technician in the form of one Felicity Smoak - whose services, apparently, had come with the highest of accolades.  

Diggle had already been ditched - firmly directed to wait for him in the lobby while he attended to some important business. 

The laptop - well, the bullet holes couldn't be helped, but hopefully Miss Smoak would accept his name and lies for what they were, because in the end, he was  _technically_ her superior and who was she to question him?  

In hindsight, he shouldn't have been surprised when the plan falls apart.  (He could just hear Slade - Slade, his brother, not Slade, the madman laughing in his ear).  

"Felicity Smoak," he called, strolling over to her desk.  He knew it was her; he had already tracked down her photo ID in the company roster that morning.  There was no question in his tone - like he had  _planned_ \- her name came out all smooth, confident assurance that he knew exactly who he was addressing and why.  

She spun round in her chair, pen propped between her lips, eyes wide behind rectangular frames.  Her photo ID had  _not_ quite prepared him for the vibrant fuchsia of her lips, puckered and pretty against her pen.

Still, he has a _plan_.   

Swallowing, he tried again.  "Hi," he smiled, "I'm Oliver Queen."

It was the only part of the plan he could call a success.

By the time she had finished babbling, he'd came to two conclusions - one, he was happy to listen to her babble, because in the weeks since he's been home, no one's done anything _but_ avoid talking to him (what can we tell Oliver?  What's a safe subject for him?  What truth can he handle today?) and two, the vibrancy of her lips didn't hold a candle to the way she lit up as she talked, drawing all the energy in the room to her.  

It's almost, _almost_  the type of zing one could call a soulmate call, but those were rare; rarer still, the chances of anyone being unlucky enough to pair themselves with him.  

"I'm having some trouble with - a - computer, and Walter said you were the person to come and see," he stuttered, trying - and failing - to regain control of the conversation.  He'd planned on saying _my_ , but the other words had skipped out instead, sliding right past his lips.  Gritting his teeth, he continued.  "I was - tracking down Deadshot, but he shot it before I could get to it."

Those very attractive lips puckered into an 'oh.'

_Fuck._ Oliver clamped his mouth shut, before he could go - and he didn't know, do something even  _more_ stupid and maybe tell her he was the Arrow while he was at it.  

What had just come over him?

He moved to snatch the laptop back, but she lunged to her feet at the same time, clamping her hands over his wrist.

"Excuse me?" she squeaked, "What did you - who's - Deadshot? Shot?"  Her eyes widened even more - they were, he noticed, a very pretty, clear shade of blue, and now _really wasn't the time_ \- scanning the laptop, one hand moving down to trace its surface.  "These look like  _bullet holes?"_

"That's because they are," he answered, the words, again, slipping past his mouth before he could censor himself, his eyes widening in surprise.  

This was _very much_ not part of the plan.  

A memory tickled at the back of his mind, a ramble from Anatoly over vodka one long winter night, a lifetime ago.   _"Soulmates,"_ he'd told Oliver, _"I was part of a pair, once, and here is what they do not tell you.  They come with - insurance.  Keeps you from screwing up.  I had a way of getting hurt; my pair had a way of feeling it.  It was a good incentive to stop."_

He'd always had a bit of a lying problem.  (And a cheating problem too, Laurel's voice reminded him).  

He flinched away from her, leaving the laptop - and his only link to Floyd Lawton - in her hands.  He had to regain control of the situation.  He could parse whatever  _this_ was later, but this - this was very much not part of the plan.  Clenching his jaw, he braced himself. 

No lies.  He could do that.  

"This laptop has important information I need," he intoned, hoping his tone impressed the seriousness of the situation, "If there's anything you could salvage, I would really appreciate it."  

Felicity pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side.  He almost thought she was going to ask another question, which, if she did, he didn't think he'd be able to avoid answering.  He couldn't help thinking she looked undeniably  _cute_ though, before he promptly shoved the thought aside.  

_Not_ the plan.  

Instead, she drew the laptop to her chest, her lips quirking upwards, even as the incredulity never left.  Almost as if _she_ couldn't understand why she was trusting _him.  "_ I'll see what I can do," she answered, turning back to her desk. 

He spun on his heel, walking away before he could say anything else.  He couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips though.  

Maybe. Maybe he needed to give up that particular plan.  

It clearly hadn't been very good.   


End file.
